


13 Days of Halloween - Harvest Festivals

by BleedingInk



Series: Halloween Challenge [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Horror Movie Tropes, Pagan Gods, Sacrifices, harvest festivals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 22:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5108102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingInk/pseuds/BleedingInk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Meg's car breaks down in the middle of the road, and they end up taking a ride to a sleepy little town looking for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	13 Days of Halloween - Harvest Festivals

“I seriously don’t know what happened,” Sam excused himself as he tried to turn on the engine again. “I swear, everything was working just fine when I…”

“The car is fifty years old, Sam,” Meg replied with a groan. “Of course it’s at the brink of breaking down at any given moment.”

And with those words, she opened the door and got out.

Sam cursed under his breath, and leaned his head against the wheel. She had been mad at him since that morning, when he’d told her to turn off her cigarette. Meg had got angry because it was the last one she had left, and it wasn’t fair that Sam tried to control what she did with her health. And then she had accused him to purposefully forgetting to buy another pack for her at the last gas station they passed. She was right, but Sam resented her nicotine-deprived irritation, so they had been arguing quite loudly before the car suddenly stopped without a warning.

Admittedly, she had a reason to be pissed at that moment. This was pretty close to being one of the worst case scenarios they had gone through before starting the trip. They were in Middle of Nowhere, Indiana, and despite his best efforts, they had been stranded there for two hours now. And judging by the way Meg was holding her cell phone to the sky, they were in one of those places where there was no signal and no way to call for help.

“You know, raising the phone three extra inches closer to the satellite isn’t going to do the trick,” he told her, hoping she would laugh. Instead, Meg glared at him and crossed her arms over her chest before leaning on the car’s door, refusing to talk to him.

Sam took out his tool box and checked on the tires and the engine, again. There wasn’t anything wrong with either of them, at least not that he could catch. They had enough gas for several more miles, and he had changed the water and the oil before they left the gas station, he was certain.

Yet, the Impala wasn’t starting.

Sam scratched his head, completely lost, and slammed the hood shut again. He was now regretting deeply not paying more attention to the weekends his father had spent teaching him and his brother to fix cars. If Dean had been there… he would be chastising Sam for letting something happen to his car, true. But he would also be able to repair it.

“Seems like we’ll have to go back to the station.”

“Oh, joy,” Meg groaned, looking at her cellphone. She was probably playing Angry Birds. “You should start now if you want to be there by sundown.”

“I’m not leaving you alone in the middle of the road,” Sam protested.

“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself,” she said, with the most passive-aggressive shrug Sam had ever seen in his life. “Besides, you shouldn’t leave the car alone either. If someone breaks in and steals it not only will we be stuck, but also Dean will demand our heads on a platter.”

Sam raised a finger, but it took him about half a second to understand Meg absolutely had a point.

“Run along, now,” Meg added. “Or do you want me to go? ‘Cause I’ll go,” she added, putting away her phone inside her jacket. “I don’t care either way.”

Sam was resisting the impulse to throw his hands in the air and shout: “Why are you like this?!” when the roaring of a motor interrupted them. A truck rolled down and stopped right beside them, and a ruddy face popped out of the window.

“Hey, folks,” said the trucker. “Do you need help?”

“N-”

“Yes!” Sam said, before Meg could make a rude or mean comment at the guy. “Yes, thank you. Our car broke down and I can seem to get it to start.”

“Well, hop on,” the man replied, opening the door of his truck for them. “I can give you a ride to the town. Have old Barry come check on your car once we’re there.”

“Thank you so much…”

“Excuse us for a second,” Meg said, grabbing Sam by the arm and dragging him away from the truck so the man couldn’t hear them. “What do you think you’re doing?” she groaned at Sam.

“Accepting the kindness of a stranger that’ll save us the trouble of having to walk for hours?”

“He could be some kind of weirdo…”

“What happened to ‘ _I can take care of myself_ ’?”

“I can, but I rather not just stroll into a situation where I have to.”

Sam huffed. He was tired, hungry, frustrated, and honestly starting to question why he had ever broken up with Jess.

“Look, we can stay here and argue until the end of times, or we can take this ride and argue about it elsewhere,” he said. “Or you can stay here and wait until I come back with the mechanic, which can potentially be hours. Your choice.”

Meg glared at him again, but in the end she reluctantly climbed into the truck with them.

“So where you going?” asked the trucker.

“Sioux Falls,” Sam said. “My brother and his fiancée had to take a plane because her mother had an accident, and he asked me to take his car to them.”

Meg was leaning against the window, refusing to look at them, but she groaned softly. Sam interpreted that she was warning not to give the guy too much information, but unless she started using her big girl words, Sam was decided to ignore her.

“I see, I see,” the trucker nodded. “And this lovely young lady is your sister too?”

“My girlfriend,” Sam corrected him.

“Ah, well, she’s a pretty one,” the trucker commented. “Would be even more if she smiled and maybe let her hair grow a little. Don’t you think so, sweetie?”

The look Meg threw him was downright murderous. Sam was glad he had made the choice to sit between her and the trucker. He decided the wisest choice for him right then was to not say a word, because if he agreed with the trucker, Meg would murder them both, and if he agreed with her, she would say he was only trying to appease her. Which in fairness would be true, but he was not ready to re-open that can of worms.

“Well, you’re going to like Burkittsville,” the trucker added after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. “It’s a sleepy little town, but we have good people. A little on the other side of the half century, but still standing tall as trees,” he chuckled, like that was some sort of inside joke. “And Stacey Jorgeson’s apple pies are to die for. You could have some while you wait for your ride to be repaired…”

“We’re on a schedule,” Meg snapped. “So maybe not.”

That deterred the trucker from any further attempt at conversation until he drop them at Old Barry’s workshop. The mechanic was very kind despite the dirty looks Meg kept giving him, and went to pick up the Impala right away.

“Good American car, huh? Well built,” he commented as he opened the hood. Sam reckoned Dean would be having a field trip there, what with a guy talking about his car in such appreciative terms and the prospect of getting some apple pie out of the deal, because: “Well, it’s seems it’s going to take a while to figure out what’s wrong. Why don’t you go to Stacey’s diner and help yourselves to some pie while I work on this? It’s right down the street.”

Meg clenched her fists, so Sam got her out of there before she punched or maimed anybody.

“Well, it’s such a shame what happened to you two!” Stacey Jorgeson told them after interrogating them about their visit. “But you arrive just in time for our Apple Harvest Festival! Maybe you’d like to stay a couple of days and partake in…”

“We’re on schedule,” Meg cut her off.

The smile in the woman’s face faltered a little but didn’t entirely disappear.

“Right. I will bring your order right away.”

“Ugh, what is wrong with this town?” she asked after their pieces of pies were served. “Everybody’s so _kind_.”

“You have a problem with people being kind?” Sam asked, crooking an eyebrow.

“Excessively kind, yes,” Meg replied. “Besides, who uses words as _‘partake’_? And have you noticed there doesn’t seem to be anyone under the age of fifty around here?”

Sam looked around, and he indeed saw there were a lot of older people in the diner. But perhaps that was just where old people happened to gather.

“Meg…”

“And I still don’t have a signal!” she added, showing her phone to him to prove it. “I’m telling you, Sam, the sooner we leave, the happier I’ll be. This place gives me the creeps.”

Sam was about to say that she had been cranky all day, so maybe the creeps she felt had less to do with the town and its people and more to do with her mood, but he decided he really liked being alive. He took a spoonful of pie into his mouth, and suddenly he understood his brother’s obsession with it. It was savory, and sweet anmd it seemed to just melt in his mouth.

“Oh, my God, Meg, you gotta try this,” he said, with his mouth full. “This is so good.”

Meg looked down at the pie, and then back at Sam before pushing her plate towards him. Sam didn’t have to be told twice.

“You enjoying that?” Stacey asked, passing by their table again.

“Yes, very much,” Sam nodded, enthusiastic. “Is there any way I can buy an entire pie from you? My brother would love this.”

“Well, absolutely,” Stacey smiled. “Come to the counter, young man… oh, I didn’t catch your name.”

“I’m Sam,” he introduced himself as he stood up to follow Stacey. “And this bundle of joy here is Meg.”

Meg didn’t even try to smile as she waved at the diner’s owner.

“Okay,” Stacey said, not noticing or politely ignoring Meg. She dunked beneath the counter and took out a pie. “I’ll just wrap this up for you now.”

Meg tapped her foot on the floor and huffed during the entire process. Sam didn’t have a lot of patience left at her childish behavior, so he agreed to meet her by the workshop a little later if that got her off her hair for a little while.

“So she’s a girl with spirit, huh?” Stacey commented once Meg was out of ear shot.

“You have no idea,” Sam laughed. “So how much for this?”

“Oh, no, just take it,” Stacey replied, making a gesture for Sam to put away his wallet.

“But…”

“Please, I insist.”

Sam tried to pay her again, because it didn’t seem right to just take the pie, but Stacey didn’t let him. He walked out of the dinner with the pie box beneath his arm and thinking that Meg had been right in saying everyone was too kind. But that didn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing…

“What do you mean you can’t fix it until tomorrow?!” Meg’s voice came floating towards him.

Sam stopped on his track on the workshop’s doorway, blinking a little. Old Barry, who had been all smiles and assurance when they came to him, was looking at Meg with something akin to the deepest despise.

“Nor can do, sweetie,” he said, with a shrug. “You’re going to have to stay overnight if you want to get it done right.”

“No, you don’t understand…”

“I think you’re the one who doesn’t understand,” the mechanic cut her off. “You’re stuck here for the night.”

Meg seemed about to scream, and Sam didn’t care for the tone Barry was using with her, so he stepped inside.

“Hey, what seems to be the problem?” he asked.

When Old Barry turned to him, he was grinning again. For some reason, Sam thought it looked a little bit forced.

“Oh, I was just telling your girl that I don’t have the parts necessary to fix your ride,” he told them. “But don’t worry, I already called my boy and he’ll be coming from the city with ‘em. You’ll be out of here tomorrow afternoon, tops.”

Sam glanced in Meg’s direction, unsure what to say. She was leaning on the car, grabbing her hair, and she looked downright desperate. Sam opened his mouth to ask Barry if he couldn’t have them any sooner, but the mechanic stepped a little closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder to stare at him directly in the eye.

“Now, why don’t you calm your lady friend down and take her to the Carrigan’s Inn?” he said, still smiling. “Nicest place around these parts to spend the night.”

“S-Sure…” Sam said, blinking. He had the impression he had been about to ask something, but he couldn’t remember what. “We’ll do that now.”

He left the pie in the trunk and grabbed their bags. Meg followed him in a silent that was less angry and more completely sinking in despair.

“I can’t believe this,” she muttered, after a while. “Sam, there’s seriously something wrong with this place. I don’t want to spend the night here.”

“Well, it seems we don’t have a choice,” Sam pointed out as they arrived to the inn. “So you might as well stop complaining now to make this easier for us all, will you?”

Meg stopped on her tracks. “What the hell did you just say?”

Sam opened his mouth to repeat himself, but he couldn’t remember exactly the words that had come out of his mouth, so he just shrugged. It was probably not important and Meg was making a big deal out of nothing.

“Well, we have a lot of travelers with those kind of issues,” said Mrs. Carrigan, the owner. “I’m sure you’ll find our accommodations more than pleasant.”

Sam blinked. He had spaced out for a moment. He didn’t remember coming into the inn or explaining this silver-haired lady, but he must have, because she was turning her back on them now to search for the keys of their room.

“Oh, before we continue,” Mrs. Carrigan said, dangling the keys just out of Meg’s reach. “Do you happen to be married, my dears?”

“How is that any of yours…?” Meg started.

“No, we aren’t,” Sam said, compelled for some reason to tell her the truth.

“Oh, shoot, well,” Mrs. Carrigan turned around and grabbed another set of keys. “Then you’ll have to rent two rooms. We don’t allow couples who aren’t married to stay in the same room. We’re very devout people, and we believe in the sanctity of marriage, you see.”

That made perfect sense.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Meg protested.

“House rules, sweetie,” Mrs. Carrigan replied. “Please, don’t be difficult about it.”

“Yeah, Meg, don’t be difficult,” Sam repeated, rolling his eyes. It had been a long day, he was tired, and he really didn’t understand why Meg had to make such a big deal about everything.

“What did you just say to me?” Meg asked. She sounded angry, which irritated Sam.

“I said, don’t be difficult,” he repeated. “You’ve been nothing but a nag all day. You need to stop.”

Meg’s jaw fell, and Sam used her confusion to grab the keys, thank Mrs. Carrigan and walk away towards the hallway where the doors way.

“Sam,” Meg called after him. “Sam, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Woah, why you using such a coarse language?” Sam cringed. “So unladylike.”

“You don’t even… what?”

Sam passed her the key.

“Get off my back for the night, will you? I’m tired.”

And he slammed the door in her face.

Geez, what a nightmare, Sam thought as he took off his shirt and jumped in the bed, not even bothering to get under the covers. His muscles were heavy and he could barely keep his eyes open. The last thing he thought before darkness swallowed him down was that he would have to have a stern talking with Meg the following day so she would learn her place once and for all.

 

* * *

 

Someone was shaking him by the shoulder. Sam groaned and turned around. He was still tired. Why couldn’t people just leave him alone…?

“Sam, Sam,” a voice called him. Sam pretended he hadn’t heard until a pillow smacked him straight on the face, over and over until he had no other choice but to sit up to make it stop. “Samuel Winchester, open your eyes or I swear…”

“Meg?” Sam groaned. He rubbed his face a couple of times, but it was like his eyelids were glued shut. “Ugh, what is it? What time is it?”

“Around three in the morning,” Meg answered. “Listen, you have to listen to me. There _is_ something wrong with this town.”

“What?” Sam wasn’t even sure Meg was saying actual words at that moment. “W-What…? Ugh, Meg, can’t this wait until the morning.”

“Oh, for the love of…”

Sam heard steps, so he figured Meg had left. He laid back down, ready to go back to sleep…

There was water on his face. He was drowning.

He opened his eyes with a gasp, only to see Meg standing by the side of his bed with an empty glass on her hand. She was still wearing the same clothes she had when they had arrived at the inn, and she looked entirely too awake. Sam wondered how the hell she could even be like that when he felt like he had a ton of weight over his shoulders.

“This is important,” she said, answering Sam’s unsaid question.

Sam rubbed his face again. Fine, if the only way she’d let him go back to sleep was paying attention to her…

“I’ve been looking everywhere,” she said, opening some road maps in front of Sam. “This town isn’t in any of these. And that lady from the dinner said something about the Apple Harvest? There’s nothing about it, anywhere. Not a promotional flyer, not even a…”

“Meg, cut to the chase,” Sam begged. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“This town doesn’t exist,” Meg replied. “Also, I’m pretty sure there was something in that pie, because I’m usually this rude, but you’re not.”

Sam stared at her for a moment and decided to give her a piece of his mind.

“I really think you’re letting your paranoia get the best of you,” he said. “Take a pill and go back to sleep, woman.”

“See? That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she replied. “You’ve suddenly become a misogynistic asshole, like every other guy in this town.”

“That’s not…” Sam started arguing, but Meg put a finger over his mouth. Sam glared at her, but before he could say another word, he heard it too.

Steps coming down the hall.

“And she didn’t eat it?”

“Yes, but it’s not trouble. We just need to knock her out.”

“The boy must be totally out of it.”

“Did you see how tall he was? He must have a lot of energy in him.”

Okay, that was definitely weird and alarming. Sam stood up (he wasn’t going to let Meg put her life in danger. She was his girlfriend, despite it all), and walked towards the door, despite Meg’s silent gestures that he stayed where he was.

He cracked the door open, just a little bit. In the dimly lit hall, he could see at least four men, all of them carrying baseball bats. He recognized the kind trucker and Barry the mechanic. They were standing in front of Meg’s door, apparently deciding the best way to kick it open.

Sam went back inside and locked the door as quietly as he could.

“Meg, you need to get out,” he whispered to her.

“I’m not leaving without you,” Meg said, matter-of-factly, crossing her arms again.

So Sam did what he did for her own good: he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her towards the bathroom so she could climb out the window.

“Get out,” he instructed her in a mumbled, and closed the door before she could protest any further.

There was a knock on the door.

“Hey, Mr. Winchester,” someone called. “This is Mr. Carrigan. Is your lady friend in there? ‘Cause you know, that would be against the rules, son. I don’t really care, but my wife could get upset. You know how they are.”

He added a laugh that was meant to be friendly and comprehensive, but it just made the hair on the back of Sam’s head stand on end. He looked around for something that could be brandished as a weapon, but all he found was the lamp at the bedside table.

“Mr. Winchester?” Carrigan insisted. “You up?”

“Told you, he’s totally out,” a second voice intervened. “Let’s just get in.”

There were some muffled discussion… and then the tinkling of keys at the other side of the door. Sam hoped Meg had already got out as he grabbed the lamp and prepared himself. The doorknob moved, and the door swung open. The four old men strode inside the room, holding their baseball bats up.

“Now, son,” said Barry. “Is that any way to treat your elders?”

Sam raised the lamp. The four of them charged directly at him, swinging their bats in his head’s direction. Sam dodged the first couple of hits, and even managed to stop one with the lamp. They moved slowed and their hits weren’t that strong. Sam was thinking he might manage to knock them all out and get Meg to safety but then…

A loud scream was heard outside his window. Sam recognized Meg’s voice and stopped in shock.

A hard hit came directly at the side of his head. The lamp slid from his finger and he stumbled. The second hit made a lot of black spots flashed in front of his eyes, and they grew until they swallowed him.

 

* * *

 

When he opened his eyes again, the right side of his face ached like hell. Something sticky was sliding down from his forehead to his cheek. He tried to move despite the pain, only to find his hands were tied to something and…

“Sam?” Meg’s voice called from somewhere at his back. “Sam, are you okay?”

She sounded worried. It was so strange that Sam opened his eyes, blinking rapidly to dissipate the blurriness of his vision. If Meg was worried, then something grave was going on.

“Meg?” he asked. “What the hell…?”

They were tied up back to back against a rather squalid trunk. They had been dragged to some sort of field, with tall, leafless tress around them. Their twisted branches rose up high into the starless night, and the darkness was so total at first Sam didn’t notice the dozen figures standing about. The fact that they were all wearing black robes probably didn’t help that.

“So, I think I’ve earned the biggest _‘I told you so’_ ever,” Meg commented.

“What the hell do they want?” Sam asked, and then raised his voice, defiant: “What the hell do you want?”

“Calm down, young man.”

He recognized Barry’s face as the mechanic stepped forwards, pulling his hood behind so Sam could see his face.

“If it makes you feel any better, you’re going to die for a noble cause,” he said. “Your blood will feed these trees, and they will give us the fruits we need to continue our ageless existence.”

“You’re insane,” Sam replied.

“To say the least!” Meg added.

“You know, why don’t we just kill her?” Stacey asked from somewhere at his right. “He seems like a sensible young man. I’m sure he’ll be happy to get rid of her.”

“Sounds good to me,” Barry said. “So, what you say? Eternal life for a nagging girlfriend is actually a pretty sweet deal.”

“No!” Sam replied, without even having to think about it. “She might be a nagging girlfriend, but she’s _my_ nagging girlfriend.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Meg said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“And I love her,” Sam continued. “And she loves me, and we would die for each other. Right, Meg?”

“Meg!”

“I’m sorry; I just don’t think this is the moment for big emotional declaration of love.”

Of course.

“You know, you’re going to have to overcome your severe phobia of compromise if you want this to work.”

“Great idea,” Meg said, and despite not being able to see her, Sam was entirely too sure she had just rolled her eyes. “I’ll get to work on it when a cult of lunatics isn’t trying to kill me.”

“Merciful gods, do we have to stand here and listen to them until sunrise?” Carrigan complained.

“I hate young people,” another person added, and the groans and protests extended all through the woods.

“Oh, alright then,” Barry huffed. “We’ll just come back at dawn for the blood spilling ceremony.”

There were some rustles and some whispering as the cult of lunatics walked away from the site. Soon, they were left alone with nothing but the trees and the crickets. Sam looked at the sky and tried to calculate how long they had until dawn, but he had also forgotten those lessons from his dad. And besides, the lingering pain in his head didn’t let him think straight.

“Meg?” he called out. “If we survive this, remind me that I should always just do as you say.”

Meg didn’t answer at first, but Sam felt her move against the trunk so her fingers could be grazing his.

“You know, even though this means you could only do as I say for a couple more hours, I think that’s really sweet of you,” she said. She moved even closer, so Sam could now intertwine his fingers with her, even though the angle was odd and uncomfortable. “Now, dislocate my thumb and my pinky finger.”

“What?”

“Do as I say, Sam Winchester.”

It took only a moment for Sam to understand Meg’s plan. If he broke her fingers, she could slip out her hand and untie them both.

“No,” he said. “Meg, it should be me…”

“Look, I don’t know if it’s the pie or your chivalry speaking, but this is not the moment,” Meg replied. “My hands are smaller, it will be easier. So just do it.”

Sam took a deep breath. If it was the only chance they had at saving themselves, he supposed he should at least try it. Biting his lips, he grabbed Meg’s hand and started squeezing with all his strength, until there was a loud “crack” and Meg cursed out loud:

“Oh, son of a…!”

“I’m sorry,” Sam cringed. “Are you…?”

Meg didn’t bother answering. The hand he was holding slipped away from him, and there was more struggling and curses.

“Okay, I think I… yes!” Meg shouted, triumphal. A second later, she walked around the tree with a smile. “Told you so.”

“Yes, you did,” Sam admitted. Meg went on to undo his knots, but it was obviously not easy with only one hand fully functional and the blinding darkness. So Sam tried to focus on something else: “So what’s the plan?”

“We sneak back into the town, get the car, get the hell out of dodge.”

“Simple,” Sam approved. “Do you know which way the town is?”

“Nope,” Meg admitted. “I was kind of unconscious when they dragged me here.”

“What do we do if they trashed the car?”

“Hope they get to us before your brother does.”

Despite the situation, Sam couldn’t help a chuckle. When Meg finished untying him, he stood up, grabbed her by the shoulder and kissed her on the lips like it was the last time he would see her. For all they knew, it could be. It was strange not to feel the flavor of ashes in her mouth, because she was such a heavy smoker…

Sam stepped back. “Do you have your lighter?”

“I don’t think it’ll help us see a lot here…”

“They said our blood would feed these trees,” Sam interrupted her. “What do you think they would do if they start burning?”

Meg didn’t answer, but she reached inside her pocket. When she turned the lighter on, Sam could see a twinkle in her eyes thanks to the little flame.

“See? I knew I liked you for a reason.”

 

* * *

 

It turned out they only had to use the lighter two or three times. The trees and the grass were so dry they caught fire right away, and the wind helped spread the sparkles around. In less than fifteen minutes, the entire field was aflame, and it turned out, it was a lot easier to see the silhouette of the town to the east with a bonfire like that lighting the way.

Meg and Sam were careful when approaching the town, because they didn’t want to run directly at the goddamn crazy cultist. But as they arrived to the town, they realized it didn’t really matter: there was such panic and chaos on the street that nobody paid attention to them.

Several of the buildings, including the Carrigans’ Inn and Stacey’s diner had caught fire, and the people were lined up on the street, still on their black robes, passing around buckets of water. A part of Sam’s brain (the part that wasn’t too busy trying to find a way out) indicated him that the fire couldn’t have spread to the town that fast. But Meg pulled his arm in Old Barry’s workshop direction and he figured they would have plenty of time to figure it out later.

They found the Impala underneath some cloths, like Barry was already trying to keep her out of sight. He had left the keys on the ignition, and at first try, the motor gave out the same strangled sound that it had when they first broke down on the road.

“Goddammit,” Sam muttered, his hands trembling over the wheel, his heart pounding inside his chest. “Come on, come on…”

The motor finally roared to life, and they both let out a euphoric squeal. They would have probably hugged each other, if they had the time. As it was, Sam stepped on the pedal and started to roll the car out of the workshop….

A cloaked figure appeared right in front of them, and Sam stepped on the brakes out of pure instinct. Barry’s face, deformed by rage, appeared underneath the black hood.

“You!” he shouted. “You have no idea what you’ve done!”

“Sam, move!” Meg ordered.

In Sam’s split-second hesitation, Barry caught fire.

They didn’t know where it came from, they had no idea how it started. But suddenly his robe was burning and soon the rest of him too. A bloodcurdling howl of pain pierced their ears, and that was all Sam needed to snap out of his panic.

He pressed the pedal until he couldn’t. They dashed out of the town, ignoring the people running with their hands in the air and the buildings lighting up their way out of the town.

None of them dared to breathe calmly until the flames were far away in the rearview mirror. Until the sun rose in the horizon and they could say for certain they had survived that night.

Only then Meg moved closer to Sam and buried her face in his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, you made it!” Dean exclaimed, coming out of his future mother-in-law’s house with a radiant grin in his face.

Sam and Meg exited the car and received a hug each.

“How’s Ellen?” Sam asked.

“She’s driving Jo nuts,” Dean shrugged. “It’s a sign she’s feeling better. And what happened to you?”

“Just a little accident in Indiana,” Meg replied looking down at the bandage covering her hand. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” Dean said, and patted the hood of his car. “And I’m glad you got my Baby intact.”

“Please, Dean,” Sam laughed. “What could have possibly happened?”

Dean had the impression his brother’s laughter was a little forced, but he decided not to comment on it. He opened the trunk to help them with their bags…

“Oh, sweet, and you brought me pie!” he exclaimed, taking out the box. “You didn’t have to…”

Sam knocked the box out of his hand, and then Meg stomped on it. Repeatedly.

“Oops,” she said to Dean’s horrified and confused face. “Sorry. We’ll get you another.”


End file.
